


He Hits Like Ecstasy

by kilme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Starbucks, boys being dorks, coffee shop AU, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9004051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilme/pseuds/kilme
Summary: The coffee shop AU in which neither are baristas. Instead, Remus spills his coffee on Sirius on Christmas Eve, and it turns out to be the best present he could ever (accidentally) give himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [backstagebadger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/backstagebadger/gifts).



> Title from Greek Tragedy by The Wombats. @moony-and-the-starboy over on tumblr, Merry Christmas!!! I tried to fit a couple of your headcanons in, but I didn't manage many. So have this silly fluffy Christmassy Muggle AU - I hope you like it! <3 And Merry Christmas to everyone else who celebrates it too :D

For years after, the way they met remains a joke between them and their close group of friends. Sirius insists that his very first impression of Remus was ‘what an adorable dork’, in large part due to the sweater with the moon cycle printed on it he’d been wearing, and Remus in turn claims that his first, second and third thoughts regarding Sirius had gone something like this: _fuck, shit,_ and _God help me._

This had less to do with Sirius’ clothes or appearance (though he was indeed stunning, leather jacket, Doc Martens, long wild hair pulled into a ponytail and all) and more to do with the chai latte that Remus had just spilled all over Sirius’ somewhat horrifically colourful graphic tee.

“Oh God,” Remus spluttered, “I’m sorry, crap, I’m always terribly clumsy. I’ll just head back in,” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the Starbucks he’d just exited from, “and get you some tissues. Sorry. Again.”

Before he could turn and make a swift escape, the stranger flashed him a brilliant grin and said, breezily, “It’s fine, really, don’t worry about it. I won’t say no to tissues, but honestly, hot coffee? Not the worst thing that could have happened to me. It’s cold out anyway, I’m all warmed up now.”

Something about Remus’ expression must betray exactly how much sense that made - zero - for the stranger carried on, “Okay, that’s not exactly what I meant, except I did mean it, but-” He made a face. “ _What I mean is,_ it’s not your fault. I wasn’t watching where I was going either. In fact, I’ll buy you a coffee and we'll call it even, alright?”

“I- What?” Remus spluttered helplessly. That didn't sound even at all. Then he realised the stranger was still half-drenched in caffeine, tea and milk, which needed to be remedied quickly; it was getting more embarrassing, not to mention significantly colder, the longer they stood in front of the door to Starbucks calf-deep in snow. “Look, um, tissues first, alright? We should get out of the cold before my latte forms actual ice crystals on your shirt.”

The beautiful stranger threw his head back and laughed, unreserved and radiant.

“Good idea,” he agreed, and pushed the door open to a jingle of bells and a gust of warm air. They headed over to the self-service counter together, Remus quickly pulling out a wad of napkins to hand over to the other man, who pressed several sheets against his shirt. He said, again, “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m starting to understand that you’re the kind of person who apologises a lot.”

It took Remus back a little, the blatant honesty with which the man said that. The statement was non-judgmental, simply an observation, and it left Remus at a loss as to how to respond.

“Oh, is this one of the instances I said something proper social rules dictate I shouldn’t have said?” The stranger asked sheepishly, smiling awkwardly and rubbing at his neck. “Sorry, I haven’t got a sense of propriety, as my dear old Mum always used to tell me.”

Something about the way he said that rubbed Remus wrong. He had no idea what, but it made him blurt out, “Proper social rules can fuck the right off.”

It startled the man into actual chortling, and when it petered off he patted Remus on the shoulder and said solemnly, “I like you very much, fellow insolent. Now let me buy you the coffee you spilled when we crashed into each other.”

“No, I can’t accept that; _I_ should get you a drink instead-”

And they were off again.

After much debate, because it turned out they were both stubborn bastards, they managed to compromise with the 1-for-1 Christmas special by splitting the price. Apparently coffee spillee had a sweet, sweet tooth.

Then they were standing in the queue before the board, considering the few options.

“Let me see - peppermint?” Remus asked, earning him a delighted smile.

“How’d you guess?”

He shrugged. “You smell kinda like mint.” And leather and just a hint of exhaust. He promptly blushed. God, that was weird, wasn’t it? He didn’t usually go around sniffing at strangers.

But it only made the man grin and say, “Well, that’s new; my best mate usually tells me I smell like mud and grass, or if I’d just showered, like his girlfriend’s lavender shampoo. But only because I actually use his girlfriend’s lavender shampoo.”

Remus raised an eyebrow.

“Tsk, tsk. I know what you’re thinking - lavender’s girly, but gender roles and stereotypes are stupid, and-”

“No, actually,” Remus cut in, “I was thinking about how awkward it must be to live with your best mate and his girlfriend.”

The stranger looked like Remus had given him a wonderful surprise, as in flowers-and-puppies level of surprise. It made Remus wonder, with just a bit of sorrow, what the other man's been through to consider a bit of basic decency special.

"Oh," the Nice Weird Stranger said after a moment, "Right. Lily doesn't actually live with us but she comes over so often she might as well move in. And she's cool, really, except when they start flirting, then it gets embarrassing as all hell."

"How about the two of _you_ stop flirting and give me your orders?" A dry voice interrupted them.

Remus could feel the flush creeping up his cheeks. Not daring to look at the other man, he cleared his throat. "One eggnog latte and a peppermint mocha please."

"Names?" The cashier continued sounding deeply unimpressed, now holding a paper cup and a marker in his hands.

"Er, Remus," he said, knowing that his name would be butchered, "for the eggnog."

The girl behind the counter didn't even have the time to give him a quizzical look before the other man said, "Sirius."

It took a few moments for Remus to register that as Nice Weird Stranger's name, during which the girl behind the counter blinked and asked, sounding almost pleasantly surprised, "Are you actually serious?"

"Yes, I'm actually Sirius." He looked way too pleased with himself.

"...Alright then. Wait over there for your drinks please." She gestured impatiently, already focusing on the next customer in the queue.

As they waited, Remus asked curiously, "Sirius, as in the dog star?"

"Yeah! I'm surprised you know it: so few people do. My family has a sort of fixation - which they call tradition, of course - on star names."

"I like it," Remus admitted.

Sirius smiled, genuine and just on this side of shy. "Thanks. And what about yourself? Have you a twin brother or just parents with an odd naming sense?"

"The latter. They both love mythology. So do I, honestly."

"Really?" Sirius looked delighted. "Please tell me you're an English major too? It'll fit my image of you so well."

Remus found himself laughing at that. "Right on. Classics, to be specific."

In turn, he learnt that Sirius was an arts student with a love for music, and that they shared several favourite bands. (Was there any way he could get more perfect?)

At that point, they picked up their drinks and headed out of the shop, walking down the street as they laughed over their Starbucks names - Areemas and Serius - together. It wasn't the direction Remus was supposed to go, but he had nowhere to be except home and he really found himself enjoying spending time with Sirius.

Still, he supposed he should ask... "Do you have anywhere you need to go?"

"Nah," Sirius replied quickly. "James and Lily are having a _'romantic night'_ together." He cringed. "I'm staying out as late as I can until it either gets too cold or too pathetic."

Remus smiled at him. "Well, my only friend Peter's out bar-hopping, so we can keep each other company if you'd like?"

"I'd like," Sirius said immediately, "Very much like. Yes. Kinda sad to be alone on Christmas Eve anyway, isn't it?"

Remus shrugged. "I suppose, but I don't really celebrate it. I went back to visit my parents in Scotland for Hanukkah, but I needed to get back to school, so here I am.” A small smile played at his lips. “And I do love London, enough that I kind of missed it when I was away.”

“It’s hard not to love it, isn’t it?” Sirius grinned, and though they’d barely known each other for half an hour, Remus could already tell there was a wistful edge to this one. “Your parents sound pretty amazing. My family might as well be on Uranus for how far away they seem. They’re like an alien species to me, though I suppose to them it’s the other way round. Hey, that makes me wonder, what’s your favourite book with aliens?”

It was a subject change about as subtle as an elephant stomping around on the rooftops, but Remus ran with it. “Ender’s Game,” he replied without even stopping to think about it, “Sci-fi classic.”

“I bet you just read it when you were a tiny child and got emotionally attached to it.”

Remus scoffed, mock-offended. “I’ll have you know that my judgment was a hundred percent objective, even as a 'tiny child'.” That was about the furthest thing from the truth ever, but it made Sirius laugh, so it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

"I just know I read it as a child and got immensely emotionally attached to it. Favourite book ever, then?"

"God, are you really going to make me choose?" Remus groaned. "That's just cruel."

And so the conversation went. The hours seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and before he knew it, it was already nearly midnight.

Sirius offered, “If you give me directions, I can give you a ride home on Elvendork. My motorbike, that is.”

“Elvendork?" Remus raised one eyebrow. "A bike?" Then the other. "There was a split second in which I'd pinned you as a greaser, but you ruined the image as soon as you opened your mouth.”

Sirius gasped and pressed a hand to his heart dramatically. “I'm hurt. I'll have you know I've got street cred, Rem."

"Let me guess- because of the leather jacket?"

"And the electric guitar," Sirius announced proudly. "I’m a punk rocker, I am.”

“Of course,” Remus said graciously. "Wait, were you one of those teenagers who formed a rock band in high school?"

"Yes!" Sirius shouted, far more excited than nostalgic. "James was our drummer and Lily our vocalist. I wish you could've seen us, or even joined. D'you play any instruments?"

"I could've been your keyboardist," Remus said, quietly delighted that Sirius would even think about including him in this hypothetical scenario. "And Peter knows how to drum too."

"God, I wish we'd met in high school," Sirius groaned, "Things would've been so much better."

Remus agreed whole-heartedly, and 'things' wouldn't even refer to his unformed teenage rock band.

"At least we got to meet today," Sirius pointed out, sending him a smile that warmed him right to the bones. 

"And now, presenting... Elvendork!" He swept an arm at a monstrosity of a motorbike, all gleaming metal and black leather. "I built it myself," he added.

It's beautiful, Remus didn't say. "That's not the best way to convince me to get on a bike."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at Remus, handing him a helmet and pulling one on himself.

“C'mon, just get on, I won't kill you,” he said, offering a hand to help the shorter man up, “As long as you hold on tight.”

What followed was the most terrifying and exhilarating fifteen minutes of Remus’ life. At one point where Sirius made a dramatic turn and his hair actually brushed the ground, Remus had honest-to-God shrieked. Sirius had laughed at him, back rumbling under his chest.

“Never again,” Remus swore as he swung his leg off the bike, hopping a few times to regain his balance, even as he quietly planned to ask for another ride some time. Maybe even soon.

“You totally loved it.”

“Yes, besides the part where I nearly died, which is- oh wait, that’s the _entire ride_.”

Sirius rolled his eyes fondly. "Drama queen. I should've brought you to the theatre instead."

Oh God. "You could-" Remus gulped. "You could bring me there next time?" He squeaked. He couldn't lift his gaze from his shoes, so he didn't know if the silence that followed was a good or terrible sign.

He was just about to exclaim 'just kidding!' and sprint into his building when Sirius began stuttering, "The theatre- you want- with me- like a date?"

"Yeah," Remus said nervously, "I mean, if you want to."

"I'm asexual," the man blurted, and Remus' stomach sank to his toes in disappointment.

"Oh, so you don't do the whole-" He gestured wildly, mostly managing only to flap his hands awkwardly, "-thing?"

Sirius looked vaguely amused. "No, I don't do the whole," he copied Remus' gestures, "sex thing, but I do like the dating thing. Specifically if it's with you. If you don't mind the asexual-ness."

"Yes," Remus nearly yelled, knowing he hadn't been exactly asked a question and not caring, "I mean, to the date. Hell yes. And if you don't mind my bisexual-ness."

Sirius grinned, confidence and swagger suddenly regained. "Of course I don't mind. Tuesday, half past six? I'll pick you up."

"It's a date," Remus confirmed, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings inside his chest.

Sirius let out a short laugh, paused a second and leaned up to kiss his cheek, lips warm against his chilly skin.

"Bye," he said shyly, before revving his bike and speeding off down the street.

It took Remus ten whole minutes to gather himself and head into his apartment, head buzzing lightly and a skip in every step.

_Next Tuesday,_ he thought to himself, feeling like he was floating above the clouds, _and maybe every Tuesday after too._


End file.
